


Liar

by ShinyShimaron



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyShimaron/pseuds/ShinyShimaron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And Conrad would smile and say yes, of course he was happy... it's the Original King's will. He would be a sheep, would follow dutifully as his life was destroyed over and over, knowing that that was what Julia wanted." One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Kyou Kara Maou.

Conrad sat alone, his back against the wall. He closed his eyes. One leg was stretched out in front of him. In the nearby road, a car zoomed by, splashing muddy water at his feet. He didn't seem to notice. A lone pedestrian passed and tossed a quarter his way. He held it up to the sky. It covered the sun. A monetary eclipse. He smirked and pocketed the coin. It was a stupid thing to smirk at, but he could only smile at stupid things these days. He was wearing a suit. It was ugly. He smirked at that too, because it was so expensive and ugly and he hated it and he was sitting on the sidewalk in the mud like a vagabond. People threw money at him. Maybe soon he'd be able to buy a better suit. He grimaced.

He closed his eyes. He heard it again. He was going mad. He would lose his mind on that street, and they would take him away. Nobody would know what happened to him. And he didn't care. Another car went by. He pulled out the letter from the Earth's Demon King and turned it over and over in his hands, looking but not seeing. He could disappear. He could burn it, catch a bus, be a vagrant full-time. He could find a job, make some money, disappear into the background, and never complete this task cruelly bestowed upon him. That would show them. His uncle, his brothers, Ulrike, the Original King, all those people who made this happen, who made Julia die.

It wasn't fair. She'd been manipulated. All her life, raised to believe that she had to kill herself to save the world. The Original King exploited her, told her she was worthless alive, that the only thing she could do for the world was to end her own life. Didn't he know how important she was? Didn't she? How could she leave him with not so much as a word? And to force him to bear the burden of her soul alone, to know what was done to her and not be able to stop it? Did he not fight for the Original King? Wasn't the punishment of losing her enough for the wrathful Shinou?

Her soul was in his pocket. He felt it there, burning. Was it angry at him? He didn't care. Conrad Weller was never allowed to be angry, never allowed to feel anything but happiness and gratefulness at his lot in life. But sitting in the streets of Boston, unshaven, nothing more than an unfed vagrant, he realized the truth. He had been hated before he was born. They had tried to take him down, to send him away, to make him die. And they hadn't succeeded. He had smiled and acted humble and noble as was expected from him, but inwardly he felt pride at being invincible. He thought that the Original King was blessing him, would continue to bless him and his people. He hadn't realized the truth, that Shinou would take another path, to destroy those he loved the most. They had won. Conrad's own strength did not matter if there was nothing to live for.

A woman holding the hand of a small child walked down the street towards them. Conrad did not spare them a glance. As they passed him, the child fussed, stopping his mother. He reached out towards Conrad. A ten-dollar bill fell to the ground by Conrad's hand. He picked it up, confused for a second before looking into the child's eyes.

"Take it back."

"Let's go, Mike," said the woman. The child looked on.

"I told you, take it back. I don't want this. I didn't ask for this." The child frowned.

"How ungrateful are you? Take my son's money and get out of here, you filthy drunk." She yanked on Michael's arm and rounded the corner, muttering that no good deed goes unpunished. Conrad crumpled the money in his hand, ashamed. He wasn't homeless. He didn't need the money. He didn't want a child's pity. He just wanted a life that was his. No more background manipulations by an unseen god, no more judgments on his race, on his loyalty, on his abilities. No more being treated as property by the state. He wanted to live the way he wanted, with not even fate standing in his way. Was that so much to ask?

Only the wind answered. He closed his eyes again to hear the voice. Was it real, or a figment of his addled mind? He slowly rose to his feet, and not bothering to dust himself off he walked a few blocks to the Charles River. Near the bank, he took out the vial that was burning in his pocket. He did not look at it. He couldn't.

He clenched his fist. He was going to break it. He was going to release the soul to the wind, let it go, let her go. She would finally be free to do as she wanted in this new world. She would become a new person, a beautiful person, and do beautiful things and feed the poor and cure disease and bring joy to so many people, with no one to tell her it can't last forever, that all good things must come to an end.

_Conrad._

He sunk to his knees, fighting back tears. He wasn't allowed to cry. That was not how he responded to things. That is not how he operated. He fought, and when his soul was crushed he fought harder. But he just couldn't.

_This is what I want._

Conrad shook his head.

"No… this cannot be what you want. It is a lie. They lied to you." His fist tightened around the vial.

_Conrad… please do this for me… I will not be gone… I will always be…_

"You were so beautiful," he said, tears running down his face. "I never told you… you didn't know…"

_Do this for me…_

He sat for a long time by the river. He couldn't think or speak. To even move would have taken an enormous effort. He felt dead, over. All his unhappiness had spilt out of him until there was only numbness left. Finally, he held up the vial, and for the first time in a while, looked at Julia's soul.

"I will do it for you, Julia," he said, "And only for you. For no one else." He stood up shakily. Across the Charles River he could barely make out the form of his friend-on-earth, sitting on a bench as the sun set. Maybe someday the bearer of the soul would ask him if he was happy, if he approved. And Conrad would smile and say yes, of course he was happy, it's the Original King's will. He would be a sheep, would follow dutifully as his life was destroyed over and over, knowing that that was what Julia wanted. But he would never be happy. He was resolved never to be happy with this outcome, only to obey fully and never question. He pocketed the vial with resolve, and slowly descended the steps of the Longfellow Bridge, the blue waters swirling below him.


End file.
